The more she considered her visit with the bishop and Mary, the more uneasy Tessie felt. If only tomorrow were the next Preaching Sunday, her confession would be over sooner.
She sighed deeply. I’ll be ousted from the church . . . and for how long? She would miss attending Preaching service and the wintertime activities for the womenfolk. Fellowship with her sisters might be scarce, as well. And Mamma? How would things be at home once the shaming began?
Placing a freshly washed Kapp on her head, she turned from the mirror and glanced out the window, noting the fading sunlight. The day had brightened midafternoon, the gloom and drear of heavy snow clouds clearing away and making the prospects for the evening much colder. Tessie was thankful Levi was taking her directly to the restaurant, where she would be warm. Thankfully, she could easily conceal her condition with her coat. Soon, though, word would trickle out, then rapidly rush down Hickory Lane like a swollen creek after torrential rains—a flash flood of gossip.
Tessie Miller’s with child!
“That’ll nix Levi’s interest in me right quick,” she muttered. At least she wouldn’t have to be the one to refuse potential future dates.
Tessie moved from the window, going to sit on the bed. There, she placed her hands on her stomach, pleading with the sovereign Lord, once more, for the health of her unborn child. Thou hast written this baby’s name on Thy heart, O Lord, she prayed silently.
Tessie quickly discovered how very likeable Levi Smucker was, which she should have remembered from going to Singings during her midteens. Smart and pleasant, Levi wasn’t one to shy away from discussing any topic, it seemed. In fact, he carried the conversation between them in the hired van, especially eager to tell her about an upcoming trip to Florida to visit his grandparents, who were struggling health-wise.
“They’re becoming enamored with the place, I think.” His eyes were thoughtful. “It’s their second winter there.” He seemed pleased when she showed interest, then happy to tell her more fascinating stories of the retired folk who frequented the area called Pinecraft. “I’ll be leavin’ next Thursday to help out, but I’ll be back as soon as I can line up further care for them, my grandmother in particular.”
“They must miss Lancaster County,” she said.
He laughed softly. “Well, they’ve had some wonderful-gut times down there.” He paused a moment, head down briefly. “Till now.” He told her of some of the retired People’s fishing trips at South Lido Beach, of playing shuffleboard for hours—with prizes for winning, no less. “Bocce too. Some of their friends take a short bus ride to Siesta Key and spend the day swimming in the ocean or walking along the shoreline.”
“Sounds nice.” She sighed. “I hope your grandmother gets well quickly.”
He said he hoped so, too. “Would ya mind if I wrote to you while I’m there?”
“I s’pose that’d be all right,” she said, immediately rejecting the idea of having any sort of courting relationship with him or anyone. Her heart belonged to Marcus King, forever and always.
Levi glanced at her, smiling. “I don’t mean to press ya, I hope you understand,” he added.
Nodding absently, she recalled sitting in this very van, heading somewhere on a cold evening with Marcus. So many lovely late-night trips spent riding around Hickory Hollow and sometimes down to Strasburg, to the creamery, and the long walks along country roads, too, holding hands in the midst of a perfect, pure silence—the most comfortable kind of all.
Levi’s anything but quiet, she thought. It was as if he didn’t mind whether the Mennonite driver overheard them, for surely Thomas Flory could understand bits and pieces of their Deitsch.
Later, when they were seated across from each other at a candlelit table, Levi did not seem troubled by being gawked at by a whole roomful of Englischers as he leaned forward, engaging her in animated conversation. Being with Levi made her feel as if they were in a small bubble made for two, and she felt bewildered. This was not at all what her heart needed.
Truth be told, she was having a nice time. But halfway through her veal tenderloin and mashed potatoes, the bishop’s remarks about her upcoming confession and possible excommunication repeated in her thoughts. Surely the prospect of additional dates with Levi—or anyone—would come to a swift end once the grapevine had its way with the People.
How soon? Next week?
Her fleeting contentment was merely that.
Winter clouds, splendid in their dappled darkness, swirled apart in patches the next morning. Shafts of sunlight broke through them and shone onto the countryside.
While the quiet house was sweet with the residual smell of cinnamon, Tessie took the opportunity to sit down with Mamma over some hot cocoa after breakfast, this being a no-Preaching Sunday. In that moment, she found herself wishing for a visit to see soft-spoken Ella Mae and have a taste of her tea at last. But it was impractical to postpone the inevitable conversation with her mother any longer. Tessie was glad they were alone and began simply by saying, “I went to see the bishop yesterday.”
“Oh?”
“I’m going to have a baby . . . and the father is Marcus.” The words spilled out.
Her mother’s round, pink face did not fall, nor did she gasp. “I s’pose Bishop John had some admonition for you?” Mamma’s blue eyes were moist in the corners. She did not reach for Tessie’s hand as she might have.
Tessie filled her in quickly.
Mamma removed her glasses and puffed a breath on each lens before rubbing them on the hem of her apron. “Will ya raise your child alone, as a single mother, then?”
“Well, I won’t hurry up and marry. I just couldn’t.”
Mamma sucked in some air and coughed. “Ach, I’d think you’d want to give your babe a father. A last name, too.”
“Jah . . .”
Thankfully, the possibility the baby could be born with a rare and serious disease did not come up. Yet it was all she could do to sit there and talk about this with her mother. The very act stretched her thin, and Tessie was starting to believe things were almost better when she was the only one aware of the baby, aside from the doctor and the bishop.
And Mandy. How she missed her sister just up the road!
“Someone’s got to break this to your father,” Mamma said suddenly. “It’s not going to be me; I can tell you that.”
Tessie nodded. Telling Dat would not be easy—he’d have himself a rant. She expected her mother to get up right then and start pacing between there and the front room, as she sometimes did when pondering Druwwel—trouble. If it were summer, Mamma might have promptly headed outdoors to drag a hose around the yard, giving her flowers a drink.
But Mamma, bless her heart, just sat there and drank her cocoa, the plate of leftover sticky buns sitting untouched before them. Mother and daughter glanced shyly at each other while the wind bent the poplar trees in the distance and brittle brown leaves spun across the cold white ground.
Chapter 22
Tuesday morning, both Tessie and Mandy showed up at the shop in Bird-in-Hand, a half hour apart. Emmalyn greeted them with a big smile, eyes laughing, and Tessie sensed that their cousin was about to remark on their both being there by mistake.
But Mandy acted strange . . . even somewhat standoffish. Or perhaps she just had her mind on something else. It had been a while since she’d taken a day to work at the shop.
The three young women worked side by side to straighten the piles of homespun offerings—counting the frilly and not-so-frilly doilies, refolding some of the quilted aprons, and spacing out the potholders on the line above them, saying not a word.
As the hour progressed, Tessie felt certain Mandy was miffed for some reason. Everyone knew practically everything about anyone in the hollow, so what had Tessie missed? Was she hurt by Tessie’s accusation last week?
When customers were few and far between, Mandy suddenly announced, “I got my wires crossed somehow. I need to get home and start cooking the noon meal for Sylvan.” She
cast a look at Tessie.
“Oh . . . well, goodness, were ya expecting me over there today?” Tessie asked, suddenly uncertain.
“Like I said, I’m just ferhoodled.” Mandy went to get her black coat and gray scarf. “Maybe I’ll see ya tomorrow, Cousin Emmalyn.” And out the door she went.
“Wonder what’s got her so mixed up?” Cousin Emmalyn said, going to the door and peering out into the sunshine, her hands clasped behind her back. The light was nearly blinding against the heavy snow; a good five inches or more had fallen in the night.
Tessie went to sit on the chair in the corner. She sighed, gazing about her at the lovely shop. “My sister’s upset, is all.” She said nothing for a moment, and then surprised herself by adding, “I’m expecting a baby, cousin.”
Emmalyn’s plump face changed just then; her eyes seemed smaller and less bright. “I didn’t know,” she said, coming this way, all serious. “And after Marcus . . . well, this has to be the hardest thing you’ve ever experienced.”
Tessie nodded.
“Oh, honey-girl . . . I care deeply for ya. And for your baby, too.”
“Denki, Emmalyn.”
“You all right?” Emmalyn crouched down next to her, putting folded hands on Tessie’s knee. “This doesn’t change anything by me. Not one iota.”
Tessie struggled not to cry.
“You’re gonna need a caring heart round here.” Emmalyn looked up at her. “Ain’t so?”
“You can’t know how much this means to me.” Tessie ducked her head near Emmalyn’s. “I’m glad you felt you could say this . . . considering.”
“Well, and let’s not judge Mandy, either,” Emmalyn said softly. “Just as I don’t judge you.” Emmalyn made a few more kind remarks about Mandy, and Tessie took it all in. This was the type of girl to have in her corner.
The ebb and flow of Tessie’s sisterly relationship with Mandy remained unpredictable. Tessie couldn’t have guessed Mandy would react the way she had. Now she wondered if she shouldn’t have told her sister straight out, instead of making her figure it out for herself.
“Jah, no sense judging,” Tessie finally said. “No one knows anyone, really, till they’ve walked in their shoes.” Or bare feet . . .
She sighed, thinking of her own penchant for having her way. “We all have our cross to bear.”
The last thing Tessie would do was feel sorry for herself as she approached the stable before supper. She was terribly nervous—oh, was she ever. But Mamma was right: It shouldn’t fall on anyone’s shoulders but Tessie’s to reveal this news to Dat.
She found him in the small, dank room just to the left of the barn door. How many times had she made this short trek between the house and the barn to ask her father to forgive her? How many times had she failed him due to her own determined will? She could see his many lists posted on bulletin boards—rainfall charts, hay yields, breeding records, and scheduled vet appointments. She still wondered why he hadn’t kept his office over at the original farm, where Sylvan had all the steers, but there was no need to ponder that just now.
His back to her as she crept in, Dat reached for the clear dish filled with paper clips. “Dat, I need to talk to you,” she said softly.
Her father turned and waved her over to sit on a stool in the corner, near a tall file cabinet. “Rarely do I see ya out here, Tessie Ann—well, lately, anyhow. What’s on your mind?”
She drew a breath, wishing she were still back at the little shop in Bird-in-Hand. Anywhere but here. “I’m going to have a baby, Dat . . . come July.”
His jaw tightened and he turned away for a moment. He shook his head before returning his gaze. “Marcus King’s?”
Tessie couldn’t bear the disappointment etched on his suntanned face. “It’s not what ya think. Honestly.”
“Well, Tessie, what else can I think?”
She had to tell him, even though she was afraid this, too, would make things worse, if that were possible. “Marcus and I were married, Dat.”
The stain of red on his neck rose to his face. “Do not compound your sin with a lie, daughter!”
She bowed her head—without proof, it was pointless to argue the fact. In that terrible moment, Tessie realized that others would react in much the same way, and she shuddered, longing to return to the house. Alas, she felt like a scolded little girl again, recalling the many times she’d brought pain to her father’s heart.
But this was different. Wasn’t it? She’d followed what she and Marcus had believed . . . had hoped was God’s will for them.
“Don’t be goin’ round sayin’ such ridiculous things, daughter . . . hear me? I want you to hush up ’bout whatever you’re babblin’.” He rose now and glared at her. “Understood?”
Finally Dat dismissed her. Feeling bewildered and shaken as she crossed the wide backyard to the house, Tessie sadly resolved to remain silent about her marriage to Marcus. Unless I can find the marriage license. But with all his things gone from the rental house, where to look?
Tessie’s father was quiet, if not sullen, at suppertime. His prickliness had not softened in the least—there would be no table games of checkers or Dutch Blitz tonight. Dat’s silence reminded her of Marcus’s way of handling tension. He hadn’t always been like that, not as a boy, but then, most young men never faced his and Tessie’s kinds of struggles. What couple had they ever known who was forbidden to marry?
Recalling Dat’s legitimate grounds for putting his foot down, though, she guessed his silence also had to do with concern and distress. Would his newest grandchild live for a few weeks or months, only to die? Surely that’s why he would not even raise his head to look at Tessie during the meal. Along with his displeasure, he must be worried sick.
If that wasn’t enough for Tessie, the next few days were filled with one suspicious thing after another—the sudden absence of any of her sisters dropping by, for one thing. Not even Dawdi Dave made an appearance from next door, so unlike him—especially around dessert time. She had not expected this palpable hush in the house. Even Mamma seemed far busier and more preoccupied than usual.
So, considering all this, when Saturday arrived, Tessie went upstairs and pulled on various underlayers, then hurried down to the outer room to don her tallest boots. She was thankful for a measure of sunshine as she took to the snow-packed road. It would be a lengthy trek in the cold, but she had to know the truth. Would Ella Mae Zook ignore her, too?
Poor girl.
Mandy watched through her front room window as Tessie leaned into the wind, out there in the dreary weather. Feeling altogether sick at heart, Mandy rested her fingers against her lips. She knew from Mamm that her sister had at last talked to Bishop Beiler. Mamm and Dat, too. Yet now the reality of what lay ahead for them all loomed life-size in her mind. “What will this do to our family?” she whispered, inching closer to the window, stalking Tessie with her eyes. “She must be goin’ to see the Wise Woman, as well she ought.” Time spent with Ella Mae Zook would be a balm, Mandy knew. If only every older woman could be as reassuring.
Presently, Mandy returned to baking bread in the kitchen, where she’d first spotted her sister walking on the snowy road. Oh, it was next to impossible to shake off the thought of her youngest sister having to kneel to confess such a sin before the congregation.
Sitting now at the table, Mandy pressed her hand to her chest. She wondered if she might not be too ill to attend church tomorrow, just maybe.
Winded and her cheeks numb from the cold, Tessie stood next to Ella Mae’s old-fashioned cookstove and shivered for more than a few minutes, trying to get warm. She wondered if her being so cold could harm the baby.
“Thought you might’ve given up on comin’,” Ella Mae said with a playful look.
“It has been a while since you mentioned it.” Tessie rubbed her icy hands together.
“Clear back in November.” Ella Mae glanced at her, then back at the pretty blue teapot, its lid off and fresh peppermint tea steeping. “But
I knew you’d come when you were ready. Prayed so . . .”
“What smells so gut, besides the tea?” Tessie breathed in the welcoming aroma.
“My newfangled cake’s still in the oven.” Ella Mae bobbed her head toward it. “The reason the kitchen’s so cozy an’ warm.”
So she anticipated a visitor today. Tessie knew from other folk that this had happened before, and she had no idea how the Wise Woman managed such things. Each morning before Ella Mae’s feet hit the floor, she said she liked to pray a blessing for the folk who might cross the threshold of her little house. She sometimes went so far as to ask the Good Lord to send the most hurting soul to her door. Tessie wasn’t about to ask if she might have been one of those souls this morning. Still, she was awful curious.
Tessie was finally warm enough to shed her scarf and open her coat. Then, glancing down at the swell of her middle, she thought better of it.
Ella Mae looked at her, bobbing her little head. “I know you’re in the family way. Guessed as much.”
Feeling suddenly much freer, Tessie took off her coat and went to hang it and the scarf on the wooden pegs near the back door.
“And . . . I’m hopin’ there’s more to the story here than anyone knows,” said Ella Mae.
Tessie nodded, then turned and offered to help put the teacups and saucers on the table.
Ella Mae cheerfully waved her away. “Go, sit an’ relax some. I ’spect you’re mied—weary, jah?”
“Not so much that as cold clear to the bone.”
“Does your Mamma know you’re here?”
Tessie shook her head. “I think she’ll be glad, though, once I get home and tell her.”
Smiling now, Ella Mae nodded.
Tessie took the seat across from Ella Mae’s usual spot. “Your table’s so perty.” She noticed the placemats—a lavish purple and blue quilted set of two. “Did ya make these?”
Last Bride, The (Home to Hickory Hollow Book #5) Page 13
